


cue all the love to leave my heart

by and_hera



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon Compliant, F/F, F/M, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Kissing, Post-Episode: s03e22 Ascension, References to Depression, WTFDAJHGO (Whatever The Fuck Daisy And Jemma Have Going On), Wakes & Funerals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 12:03:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28545282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/and_hera/pseuds/and_hera
Summary: “What the hell are we going to do now,” Simmons whispers. “How do we come back from this one?”“I don’t know,” Fitz says, sounding more like he’s placating her than actually answering. “I don’t know, Jemma, I don’t know.”or, there's a funeral.
Relationships: Jemma Simmons/Skye | Daisy Johnson, Leo Fitz & Jemma Simmons & Skye | Daisy Johnson, Leo Fitz/Jemma Simmons, Lincoln Campbell/Skye | Daisy Johnson
Comments: 3
Kudos: 26





	cue all the love to leave my heart

**Author's Note:**

> so that sure was a season finale, huh. i actually have finished s4 already but i've been meaning to write this one for a while. yells LINCOLN CAMPBELL I MISS YOU SO SO MUCH  
> this was supposed to be one very short (daisyjemma) scene and. i spiraled. take this (a fic with like, so much fitzsimmons. i am nothing if not predicatable)  
> if any of you have listened to the hit podcast wolf 359 (which you totally should!) you might understand why i wrote this the way i did, as it's very similar to that season 3 finale. bitches be like having funerals  
> there are minor allusions to lincoln being suicidal, and minor allusions to daisy falling into depression. this isn't a super Happy fanfiction ngl sorry but wow i have feelings about them.  
> also! in my brain and all my fics, fitz, simmons, and lincoln are all trans and daisy is nonbinary! this is not significant in any way but i make little references here and there  
> title from miss missing you by fall out boy. hope you all enjoy!

Daisy’s gone as soon as they touch down on Earth.

Simmons wants to follow her. Simmons wants to go lie down and never think about any of this again. Simmons wants to curl up in her bed and pull the sheets over her head and hold Fitz in her arms and never leave.

But there are matters to attend to. Hive is dead. Lincoln… Lincoln is dead. And Simmons has to deal with it all. Coulson will handle the bulk of it but Simmons is smart and clever and puts on a good face to handle it.

She tells Fitz to go after Daisy. Fitz is smart and clever but he doesn’t do well with reports. He nods and follows Daisy into the base. Simmons doesn’t have time to think about what happens to them, because she goes to work and ignores it all.

Simmons is fantastic at ignoring things. She prides herself in her ability to pack things up into boxes and deal with them later.

Something plays in the background, though. A constant, steady beat, like the bass line of a song that’s had its melody torn out and eaten. She lets the stream of thought about Daisy and Lincoln and Fitz go and she doesn’t bother silencing it completely. 

That night, Simmons lays down in her bed and crawls under the covers. A moment later, Fitz knocks on the door because he’s a gentleman and doesn’t assume he’s welcome just because they’re regularly having sex. “Come in,” she says as loudly as she can, which isn’t very, because her voice is hoarse from explaining what happened again and again. He comes in and he lies down next to her and she puts her head on his chest. 

“How was Daisy,” she asks.

“Not good,” he says, and she puts her hand over his heart just to feel it beat. Traces her fingers over the scars on his chest. “I think we need to have a funeral.”

Simmons exhales and bursts into tears.

Fitz runs his fingers through her hair and she cries, because good God, he’s _gone_. Lincoln, a good man, a tough soldier, is dead and they did nothing to even try and save him. They couldn’t have done anything to save him. But they didn’t even try and Daisy- oh Lord, _Daisy_ -

“What the hell are we going to do now,” Simmons whispers. “How do we come back from this one?”

“I don’t know,” Fitz says, sounding more like he’s placating her than actually answering. “I don’t know, Jemma, I don’t know.”

* * *

Daisy doesn’t leave her room the next morning. Simmons knocks once around ten, and doesn’t get a response. She figures that Daisy has earned a few hours of solitary mourning.

Simmons doesn’t know if she understood how much Lincoln meant to Daisy. They were in love, she knows that much, but being an Inhuman is something that she’ll never understand, at least not from a living aspect. She can analyze the science behind being an Inhuman and learn all about this and that and she’ll be content with knowing, she will, but Daisy and Lincoln shared a connection that she can’t quite wrap her head around.

Lincoln talked about destiny, at the end. Said he stole Daisy’s. Fitz would probably say that you can’t “steal” someone’s destiny, that it was always meant to be Lincoln Campbell who died alone in the atmosphere, but Simmons doesn’t know. She’s seen more drastic things done for love.

She knocks on Daisy’s door again at one. No response. She opens the door this time and it’s immediately slammed in her face. “Daisy,” she says softly. “It’s just Jemma. I just want to make sure you’re okay. I brought some dinner.”

“I’m fine, Simmons,” Daisy says. Her voice is hoarse. “I’m- don’t worry about me.”

“See, I do worry about you,” Simmons replies. “Constantly. And I know that this is-”

“You don’t know a damn thing about this Jemma,” Daisy snaps. Simmons closes her mouth. She hears Daisy sigh. “I’m sorry,” she says softly. 

“It’s okay,” Simmons says. “I don’t mean to push. It’s just- you’re my friend. And you were more than that at one point, I think, and I just- I don’t want you to suffer alone.”

“I think I need to be alone for a little while,” Daisy says and she’s quiet enough that Simmons has to strain to hear her. “Maybe that would be for the best.”

“No, no it wouldn’t,” Simmons says. “Let us help you. At least let me in.”

Daisy sighs. Simmons tries the door again and this time, Daisy doesn’t quake it shut.

Daisy’s hair is dark black. There are dye stains on her sheets and her hands and under her fingernails. There are bags under her eyes that makes Simmons doubt that she’s slept since they got back. It’s not like Simmons has, either. She and Fitz both pretended to, but his breath never evened out and Simmons couldn’t turn off her thoughts.

Simmons reaches out and takes Daisy’s hand and squeezes it. Daisy exhales a shaky breath. “Thought a change would be good,” she mutters, gesturing to her hair with her free hand. “What I did all through high school. Whenever things got tough, bam. I’d take safety scissors to my hair or get the cheapest dye in any grocery store. Luckily enough, S.H.I.E.L.D. keeps dye here, since we’re a spy organization, and stuff, so I just- oh.”

Simmons pulls her in until she’s as close to Daisy as she can possibly be. “I’m so sorry,” she says, and she puts a hand on the back of her head. “I- I don’t know what to say, Daisy.”

Daisy shudders. She doesn’t cry. But she clings to Simmons like her life depends on it, which is a start.

* * *

After she leaves Daisy to herself, Simmons tries to walk into the lab. Before she can walk through the door, Fitz is being pushed out of the door by Coulson. Simmons brushes past him but Coulson stands in the doorway, arms crossed. “Sir,” Simmons says, “what are you-”

“You two aren’t allowed in here yet,” Coulson says firmly. Then his face softens. “Take some time. I don’t want you working on anything until you’ve had time to process.”

“But sir,” Fitz protests, “I-”

“Director Coulson, there’s something I have to-”

“No, no, no, no,” Coulson says, talking louder so his voice is heard over theirs.

“Sir!” Fitz shouts in response, even louder. Coulson raises his eyebrows. “Look,” he says. “I need- I need to-” he snaps his fingers. “I have to do this. I need to see if anything- if anything’s- shit, shit, the words are-”

Simmons puts a hand on his shoulder. “Hey,” she says. “One word at a time.”

Fitz puts a hand on hers, rubs her fingers. “Okay,” he says. He takes a deep breath. Coulson looks on in concern, maybe, or possibly confusion. Simmons can’t be bothered to logic out his microexpressions anymore. “I need to see if anything is left,” Fitz says slowly. “I need to- if there are any remains from the ship. I’d like to scan the debris and just- just check.”

Coulson closes his eyes. “Fitz,” he says, “I know this is hard, but it’s impossible that there’s a body left after an explosion like that. It’s likely that nothing is there but ship parts and-”

“We want to have a funeral,” Simmons cuts in. “For- for Lincoln. And maybe if there’s a jacket, or something that we can salvage.”

“Oh,” Coulson says. And he looks genuinely taken aback. “Have you- have you talked to Daisy yet, or-”

“Not yet,” Fitz says. “I was hoping to know what we’ve got before I talk to her. I mean, about the funeral. I already talked with her yesterday about other things, but-”

“It would be nice to check, sir,” Simmons says. “And I don’t know about you, but leaving us without anything to do for a few days but wallow and think about all the people who are dead sounds like a new personal low. Sir.”

Coulson shakes his head. “I know,” he says. “I thought you would just want some time off. You two- I wanted you two to have time to process things.”

“This is a very roundabout way of giving us his blessing,” Fitz says under his breath.

“I mean, I wasn’t talking about the fact that you two pulled a _broken comms_ to do God knows what _during a mission_ -”

“Who told you that? Mack?”

“But I am happy for you two nonetheless,” Coulson says pointedly. “And I want you to have time to work it all out, despite the fact that you probably should have worked it out ten years ago and I know for a fact that Lincoln thought you two were married when he met you for the first time.”

“Doesn’t help that people refer to us as Fitz-Simmons,” Simmons says, but Lincoln’s name drops the mood. “And I appreciate the thought, Director. It’s just not how this is going to work for anyone.”

“We still have a lot to do, even though Hive is gone,” Fitz says. “We can’t just sit back and let things happen.”

“Lincoln was your friend,” Coulson says. “I know you want to work. You need to take a breath too, though. I know you weren’t as close to him as Daisy was-”

Simmons says, not unkindly, “No one was as close to him as Daisy was.”

“-But it’s okay to mourn.” He puts his hands in his pockets. “We haven’t taken time to think about anyone since what. Trip?”

Fitz nods his head. Simmons closes her eyes.

“I’ll check the debris,” Coulson says. “I’ll keep you updated. Now get out of my base and take Daisy with you, if you can.”

* * *

Fitz knocks on her door again that night and Simmons tells him to come in again. Sharing with him is nice. Simmons doesn’t know if she’ll say it yet but she loves him and probably has since they were at least nineteen, if not earlier. She wonders how long Fitz has known. Of course she’s dated over the last ten years, and so has he, but she wonders if he’s loved her all along.

Sometimes Simmons has selfish thoughts. She brushes this one away like she does all the rest, because she’s already overconfident in her skills as a scientist. She can’t do this with love, too. Simmons doesn’t understand love in the way she understands science and she probably never will.

That’s a difference between her and Daisy, between her and Fitz. Daisy loves like it’s easy, like giving part of herself to someone else is simple. Fitz loves like it’s something he has to do, like he always has to give his entire self away. Both of them love like it’s the end of the world.

But for Simmons, for Jemma Simmons, love has always been an end result. It’s been coming for a long time and she isn’t surprised by it and she doesn’t feel blindsided. Maybe she should. Maybe she should be better at loving.

“What did you and Daisy talk about?” she asks. Her head is on his chest again because she likes to hear him breathe. It’s a habit she picked up after Maveth; any chance she has to be sure that her friends are near and alive, she takes.

Fitz hums, and she feels it. “Not exactly my place to say,” he says. “It’s Daisy’s business. I don’t- I just wish she was okay. I don’t know how to make her okay. Remember when we realized she was an Inhuman?”

“Of course,” Simmons says. “You didn’t tell me. Faked the blood test.”

“It was like that all over again, but worse,” Fitz says. “Because this time, neither of us were worrying about someone dying. Someone already did.” He sighs, and kisses her head. “I don’t know what to do,” he says. “She’s all torn up about it and I can’t just tell her that she’s different now but it will be okay. I don’t know if it will be okay.”

“I don’t think it ever will be,” Simmons admits. “I think it can only ever get better. Not okay. And it might get worse.”

“You two were almost friends,” Fitz says.

“So were you two.”

“Yeah, because we realized our girlfriends have something going on with each other and that’s just a fact we have to live with.”

“Oh, Fitz-”

“No, no, it’s fine.” Fitz shakes his head. “It was nice to talk to someone. Lincoln was a good guy. And he was, you know.” Fitz gestures with the hand that isn’t wrapped around Simmons.

“What, trans?”

“No- I mean, yes, he was also trans, but I was talking about the whole _would do anything for the girl he loves_ thing.”

“Oh.”

Fitz shrugs. “I just,” he says, “I feel like we should’ve- like there was more we could’ve-”

“Like we shouldn’t have left him to die in the cold vacuum of the Earth’s atmosphere,” Simmons finishes. “Like we should have at least tried.”

Fitz sighs, and his voice is shaky. “We talked a little,” he says. “We talked a lot about doing what you had to. And after everything he’s been through-” he pauses to clear his throat- “after everything he’s been through it isn’t- it isn’t _fair_ , Jemma!”

Simmons nods, and she turns and sits up so she’s leaning into his side rather than onto him. “I know,” she says. “I know, I know.”

“He told me that he’s- that he didn’t want to be around anymore, Jem,” Fitz says, and he says every word like it pains him. “But he kept at it, and then he met Daisy, and he kept at it for her. And he was getting better.”

“I know, Leo.”

“He was getting _better_ ,” Fitz insists. “He was- he was going to be able to-” and he breathes in sharply, and Simmons pulls his head into her and holds him. “I thought I was better with my words, but I guess not,” he mutters, and he’s shaking everywhere. Simmons holds him. “He was going to get better and he and Daisy should’ve- should’ve- they should’ve been _happy_.”

“I know. I know.”

“Stop _saying_ that!” Fitz says, and he sits up and looks at her. His eyes are all bright the way they always are when he’s about to cry. “I know you know. Just- just tell me how to make it _better_ , Jemma! You’re good at that. You’re good at knowing what to do. Just- why can’t I figure this one out? Why did the man who was learning to live have to die? Why did he have to kill himself anyway?”

A beat.

Simmons shakes her head slowly. “I don’t know what to do, Leo,” she says. “I’m- I’m just as lost as you are, and Lincoln was my friend too, and I’m just as lost without him.”

Fitz droops, his shoulders slumping, head falling onto his chest. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get upset, I’m sorry-”

“It’s okay, I know, I’m sorry too.” Simmons taps his shoulder and he sits back down and they settle. “It’s not okay, actually,” she says. “Not us specifically. We’re fine. I- you know that we’re going to be okay. It’s just- everything. I don’t know if things are going to go back to normal after this.”

“How could they,” Fitz says, like he wants nothing more than to disappear. “I mean, if nothing else, we won’t be seeing Grant Ward’s face anymore. He’s gone. How about that.”

Simmons laughs in spite of herself. “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” she says, and her voice cracks. “No more seeing the man who threw us into the ocean.”

“First law of thermodynamics,” Fitz mutters to himself.

“What?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing,” he says. “Just- it’s what we talked about. You were looking at the ocean like it was something beautiful even though it was going to kill us and I was looking at you.”

Simmons hums. “Awfully poetic.”

“Makes me think about destiny,” Fitz says. “Is that what was really supposed to happen?”

“That’s more your domain than mine. Was it?”

“I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore, Jemma. I can’t figure out if Lincoln really did replace Daisy with himself and take that necklace or if he just played into what was really supposed to happen.”

“Does it matter?”

Fitz says, “No. Yes.”

“Did Coulson find anything in the debris?”

“One guess.”

“The necklace.”

Fitz taps her nose. Simmons closes her eyes and allows herself to slide down until she’s almost horizontal in the bed again.

“We should have a funeral,” Simmons says. “I’ll tell Daisy. I feel like I should.”

Fitz nods. “Okay,” he says. “Yeah, okay.”

* * *

Simmons knocks on her door. “Daisy?”

The door swings open. The bags under Daisy’s eyes have only grown since yesterday. Her arms have bruises on them and Simmons knows she hasn’t been wearing her gauntlets. The scar on her cheek that she got at some point or other is more and more prominent.

“I brought you Oreos,” Simmons says simply. “Your metabolism is too slow to not eat.”

“I’m eating plenty,” Daisy grumbles, but she takes the Oreos anyway and immediately eats one. Simmons wonders if she was waiting for someone to make her take care of herself. Simmons doubts she’s showered.

Simmons sits on her bed. Daisy continues standing, but Simmons doesn’t mind- she knows Daisy’s never been one for sitting still. (She’s tried to get her to check out getting tested for ADHD like Simmons was when she was younger, but there simply hasn’t been time for that.) “Daisy,” she says, “Fitz and I have been thinking.”

“I don’t like that,” Daisy replies. “Never good for you two to have thoughts.”

Simmons rolls her eyes fondly. “It’s- we wanted to know what you thought of it first,” she says cautiously.

Daisy swallows her Oreo and looks at Simmons, eyes narrow. “What is it,” she says.

“A funeral.”

Daisy inhales sharply. She doesn’t react other than that.

“I just thought- maybe it would be a good idea to be able to say goodbye.”

Daisy closes her eyes and shakes her head slowly. “No, no, I _did_ try to say goodbye, Simmons,” she says. “I tried my damndest, and the comms cut out, and I didn't even get to tell him that I _love_ him.” She shakes her head and her hair falls in front of her eyes. “That I loved him,” she corrects. “He died and he never goddamn knew that I loved him the same way he loved me. Before I even- before I could really apologize for what Hive _influenced_ me to do.”

“Daisy,” Simmons says, “I’m sorry, I didn't mean to-”

“Tell me how I’m supposed to say goodbye to him, Jemma. He’s gone. There isn’t even a _corpse_ ,” Daisy says savagely. She holds her arms out, gesturing to the room around her. “So have a _fucking_ funeral if you want, if it will make you feel better, but I have to live with it. And I didn’t get to say goodbye and he doesn’t know that I love him and he never fucking will.”

Daisy’s voice cracks on the last sentence. Simmons looks at her, really looks at her. “Daisy,” she says. “Daisy, he knows.”

Daisy bursts into tears. Simmons stands up and pulls her in close. 

Simmons has her arms around Daisy and Daisy doesn’t hold her back, just stands there with her hands between her chest and Simmons’. Shaking. Simmons thinks the world around them might be shaking, too. Daisy’s gauntlets on the floor and her suit in the corner of the room and her binder flung haphazardly on a chair and the goddamn Oreos sitting on the bed. Simmons closes her eyes because she shouldn’t be analyzing a room while her best friend is sobbing in her arms. “I’m sorry I mentioned it,” she whispers. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

Daisy shakes her head over and over again like it will do something. Simmons gently pulls up her chin and presses her forehead to Daisy’s. Daisy shudders.

“Do the goddamn funeral,” Daisy whispers, and Simmons can feel her breath on her own mouth. “Do it. I won’t say anything. But do it.”

* * *

There’s only a few people. Just Fitz, Simmons, Coulson, May, Yo-Yo, Mack, and Daisy, all standing in a circle. Just the people who knew him. And it’s nowhere special. The hangar bay seems so much bigger when all the quinjets are out flying and no one else is allowed in.

Daisy is holding the necklace in her hands. Her hands are shaking. Simmons made her wear the gauntlets, just in case.

“Dearly beloved,” Coulson says, “we are gathered here today to celebrate the life of Lincoln Campbell. A hero. A man who sacrificed it all for us.”

There’s a moment of silence. Then Daisy says, “How does this work, exactly?”

Everyone looks at her. She looks like hell. “What do you mean?” Mack asks cautiously.

“I’ve never been to a funeral before,” Daisy says. “Never had anyone to mourn until S.H.I.E.L.D. and never had time to mourn them until now. What do we do?”

“Well,” Coulson says, “usually, people go around and talk about the departed. Good memories, good stories. It’s like reminiscing.”

Daisy scoffs. “We all remember him,” she says. “It’s not like anyone’s going to forget.” She reaches up and scratches at the scar on her cheek. “It all just seems pointless.”

May says, “Lincoln Campbell was a little shit.”

Everyone holds their breath. Daisy raises an eyebrow.

“He was a dramatic kid,” May continues. “He thought he could do everything himself and when he couldn’t, he thought that was all his fault. He was never a real agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. and only ever tried to be so he could stay with the woman he loved. And I think we all know that his sacrifice was only for her, too.”

Daisy shakes her head. She’s smiling wryly. “At least someone’s acting like normal,” she says.

May rolls her eyes. “I’m telling the truth,” she says. “And another part of that is the fact that, like you said, he’s never going to be forgotten. No matter how hard he probably tried to be, no matter how much he doubted anyone would care if he went and took one for the team, he will be missed.” She locks eyes with Daisy. “Even by me. Especially by me.”

“Lincoln was an Inhuman,” Elena says softly. “I didn’t know him all that well but I know that he cared about me. Maybe he only cared because I was like him and therefore part of his responsibility. But he cared.”

“He loved Daisy, and he did anything for her, no matter how insane it sounded,” Mack says. “I respect him for that if nothing else. He fought for what he wanted and he almost always got it. And he kept his promise to keep Daisy safe.”

Daisy closes her eyes.

“Lincoln was never really an agent, but he saved my ass more than once. He learned how to control his emotions over time, and I think he would have continued to do so.” Coulson shakes his head. “He grew so much with us. Yes, it was because of Daisy. But I cared about him, too. So did everyone.”

Fitz clears his throat. “We talked a decent amount, Lincoln and I,” he says. He’s talking to Daisy but he’s looking at Simmons. “He was a good man. We both-we both cared about Daisy very much, and we both understood what someone will do for the person he loves. And I know he struggled but he kept coming out on top. He did. He kept fighting it even if he didn’t want to fight it.”

Daisy fidgets with the necklace in her hands, spinning it around and around between her fingers. If she doesn’t stop rubbing the cross on it, Simmons thinks it’ll lose it’s gold color sooner rather than later. 

“Lincoln Campbell loved people and he loved the world,” Fitz says. “It’s a shame that he didn’t get to see it.”

And then it seems like Fitz has expended his words that he’ll be able to say for the day, and he falls back next to Simmons.

“He did get to see the world, though,” Simmons says. “In those last moments, I doubt he saw much else.” She sees Daisy wiping her face angrily. “Lincoln and I were friends, I think I’d say. And I cared about him. Care about him. He would joke around with me and once he made all my hair stand on end. I don’t know if it was a joke, either,” she says lightly, finding herself laughing a little. “He protected me when I needed it. He protected Daisy when she needed it. And he never wasted time trying to protect himself.”

“I wish he had,” Daisy says softly, and Simmons falls silent. Everyone looks at Daisy and Daisy looks at the necklace. “This is the last thing I have of the man I love,” she says. “A necklace that I knew would kill him. What’s the point of seeing the future if you can’t fucking change it, you know?”

“Fate’s a fickle bitch,” Fitz says. Noises of agreement echo around the huge empty room.

Daisy shakes her head. “I don’t know what I’ll do without you,” she says to the necklace. “I don’t know what I thought I was getting into with you but I don’t think I got enough of it.”

“Daisy,” Coulson says softly, and Daisy looks up very quickly.

“I think I have to go for a little while,” she says.

“Go?” Mack asks.

“What do you mean, go?” Elena asks.

Daisy shakes her head again. “I don’t know,” she says, “but I can’t be here. Not with- not with you all looking at me like that. Not with this _fucking_ necklace.” She drops it on the ground like it burned her. “I appreciate this all, I do. But I- I can’t. I can’t.”

And then she turns on her heel and runs out of the room.

* * *

Simmons doesn’t bother knocking this time. She just opens the door. “Daisy,” she says. “You can’t leave. Please don’t leave.”

Daisy looks up at her, and she just looks so, so tired. “I’m sorry, Simmons,” she says. “I just- I can’t let it be for nothing. I can’t let it be for nothing.”

Lincoln’s sacrifice, Daisy doesn’t say. She can’t let him die for nothing. Simmons wants to shake her, wants to tell her that Lincoln didn’t die for nothing. Daisy is alive. That’s all he wanted. He didn’t need her to do something with that life. He just needed her to have it. He just needed her to know that he loved her. Simmons doesn’t shake her and doesn’t shout in her face, though. She takes Daisy’s face into her hands.

“Agent Daisy Johnson,” Simmons says, “I can’t lose you. Not after him. I can’t lose you too.”

Daisy looks at her and Simmons can’t tell what’s behind her eyes, if it’s pain or nothing or everything. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I can’t stay here. I can’t. I can’t stay here, Jemma, not where he- not with everyone- I just can't. I have to do something. I can hunt down the Watchdogs, or something. Just like a long mission.”

“But you could be killed!” Simmons protests. “Please, Daisy, don’t be an idiot. Lincoln died so you could _live_ , so you could be okay-”

“Jemma, Lincoln wouldn’t want me to waste the life he got me-”

“Lincoln wouldn’t want you to go get yourself killed, either!”

Daisy looks at Simmons, and Simmons looks back at her. Then Daisy kisses her, hard. It isn’t a long kiss, and it isn’t a particularly good one, either. And neither of them really mean it, but Simmons knows what it means.

“Goodbye,” Daisy says. And then she grabs the bag she just finished packing and is gone.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! please please PLEASE leave comments and kudos! you can come talk to me about aos on twitter @lcvelaces :-)


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